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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224872">Per Fidem</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoloYourman/pseuds/PoloYourman'>PoloYourman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anthropomorphic, Fantasy, I didn't intend this to look furry, Medieval Fantasy, Multi, but if you want to look at it that way i won't stop you, i wrote every single word of it while sad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:47:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoloYourman/pseuds/PoloYourman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't belong here", - Litha has tightened the grip on her sword and faced her opponent with mad, rabid eyes.<br/>"And you, I presume, are? You don't own titles, your lineage has been ripped apart. You don't even own your name. Who do you even think you are?"</p><p>The continent falls under one of the biggest crisis it had to face, right after the war has turned things and people upside down. It seems like centuries of development have suddenly just fell apart with no one willing to restore the previous greatness of all the kingdoms, let alone actual mental peace, apart from whatever was written on paper.<br/>Or almost no one. Follow stories of those few who decided to take matters in their hands, each from their side of the border.</p><p>The story is a fairy tale about a princess who lost her crown and is willing to give everything to get it back. But she’s not without weaknesses and the world is not without cruelty.</p><p>For a friend of mine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Per Fidem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A+friend+of+mine">A friend of mine</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alright, this is purely test writing, but hopefully it can become something bigger. The story has been eating my head for years and so I have finally decided to put it on paper. This is not the first time I'm writing, but it is the first time I'm presenting it publicly.<br/>I'm not originally an English speaker, so I would be immensely grateful for any suggestion you can give me, I am aware there are plenty of expressions I'm reusing quite often.<br/>Critique my shit the hardest you can, I want this to be perfect.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>- Awfully quiet, - the visitor in the corner of the room broke the silence. It was rather quiet indeed during the day, weirdly so, but everything had an explanation.</p><p>- I wouldn’t be so sure, - replied Gilbert.</p><p>Because Gilbert knew this place well, as he knew the Baron and his men, and all the kind of trouble they would get in and drag the grumpy tailor along. It was this terrible frustration from actually wanting to be a regular tailor but ending up as the front henchman of the lord madman himself that bugged Gilbert the most. His local ruler definitely had a strange way of choosing his confidants, yet, surprisingly enough even to the tailor, he chose well.</p><p>Although this time the old cat has earned a day off. The Baron and his men were out in the swamps for a hunt and the worst adventure Gilbert could expect were exquisite types of damage on the gear of those people that he will have to repair later. None of them cared enough to keep it all clean or to at least try to avoid holes in all kinds of peculiar places in the fabric.</p><p>His guest on the bench, right beside his working counter, was nothing that the tailor expected him to be. The lizard was talkative, but not annoying. And, just as unexpectedly, he wasn’t discouraged by Gilbert’s ever so grumpy attitude. By now the tailor couldn’t tell when exactly did the lizard appear in his workshop and how, but the day turned out to be relaxing, despite his sudden appearance, so he couldn’t find the will in himself to be bothered by that for now.</p><p>The evening was soft. It was still warm outside, with a discrete wind caressing everything it touches, turning it amber. It was the kind of time that envelopes you completely, a drunk twilight. The kind of time that you can remember from a very distant past, with a light feeling of unease.</p><p>- Ah, of course, that hearing of yours. What is it, are they coming? - the lizard’s hearing was definitely at a disadvantage in front of the feline ears.</p><p>- They do indeed, and they’re carrying something heavy, - Gilbert has stopped his needle for a second to sniff the air out of his window, - Boar.</p><p>- My-my… Think you can sneak me onto the feast?</p><p>Well, sneaking would be hard enough in an isolated community, where everyone is familiar with one another. And how promising would be the chances of sneaking an abnormally tall lizard into an exclusively feline feast?</p><p>- Just tag along, I don’t think anyone will mind, - replied Gilbert.</p><p>It was already late, way past the time to close his workshop, but his guest’s embroidery request demanded a lot of attention, and he was surprisingly willing to spend some more time with it. It was very expensive material, masterfully crafted, but so clumsily damaged as well. It’s been awhile since his work has brought that much challenge to the tailor. Yet, it was amusing.</p><p>Amusing in a sense that you get to see something different than the repeating clothing that served no aesthetic purpose of everyone stuck in this fortress. Judging by the attitude of “everyone” though, Gilbert would be the only one miserable enough to call it “stuck”.</p><p>The lizard himself though seemed to be a tidy fellow. Shiny green scales with a hint of deep blue looked like those of someone who bathed awfully often, which was quite unusual, unless you were a sort of a royalty. His other shirts looked cheaper, but were neatly arranged and pinned with discrete brooches. It really looked like he was spending a lot of time caring for his appearance.</p><p>
  
</p><p>None of those traits indicated in the slightest why he would bother to traverse such a dense swamp to find such an ugly castle, though.</p><p>The entire place was ridiculous to the tailor. He pondered many questions, like why begin a community so lost in the genuine middle of nowhere, how did anyone around end up here voluntarily, why build at all a solid wall around the place in a swamp so uninviting no enemy could even come close, let alone even just find the castle. Yet they even had a man appointed every day and night to guard the front gate.</p><p>Gilbert knew how he ended up here, but it was hard to imagine the rest of the happy folk having a bounty on their head.</p><p>- Here, it’s done, - the tailor has cut the last piece of string and handed the blouse to its owner.</p><p>He wasn't quite sure how he ended up conversing, and rather pleasantly at that, with the new face in the fortress. He didn’t mind a little diversion from all the familiar whiskers either.</p><p>You may have guessed that Gilbert wasn’t known to be a talkative type. Nobody ever really knew him to reply with more than whatever words were absolutely necessary to be pronounced. No small talk, not even a word about himself. So he never complained either, to anyone other than himself. Maybe his guest enchanted him in a way. He was quite charming.</p><p>It made sense that a lizard would be able to make his way through the harsh areas, too, among everyone else. This one, in his posture and in his clothes seemed to be of a noble descend. Quite generous on the payment as well, as the tailor was about to throw a discount. For the company and good conversation, of course.</p><p>Gilbert never really felt like he was in need. Earlier in his life, his family was that of peasants, but quite wealthy, working fertile land for a generous lord, and later he was well fed by his masterfully acquired tailoring art. By now he’s well supplied by his own Baron, although being rich in such a hole didn’t really mean anything.</p><p>But to his genuine lack of understanding, the little sack that his client handed him as payment didn’t only contain coins. That is, it didn’t only contain coins of the conventional currency.</p><p>- Wonder what this is? - the lizard’s face didn’t lose it’s playful expression</p><p>The coin in question was about three times bigger than the regular ones, but also about three times lighter. It didn’t feel like metal, nor wood. It felt like something else. He couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but the name of the material was somewhere close to spilling out of his head. This was the first time in his life he’s actually got to touch it.</p><p>One side of the coin looked like a regular coat of arms, with a shield, two swords and an ornament. The symbol was unknown to the tailor, but the ornament was distantly familiar. He flipped it and on the other side he spotted a crowned head of a hare. By this moment he’d already guessed whose coat of arms that was. This was the first time in his life he’s actually got to see it.</p><p>Before, he tried to hide that ornament so deeply inside his memory, to never think about it again, that it took him a while to wake those bits of his past back.</p><p>- You owed a favor to that crown. They now wish to ask it of you, - it seemed like his guest was about to add “cordially” at the end of his sentence. The playful look has slightly betrayed the desperation behind it. Nobody was going to ask Gilbert cordially. There was just one slight problem.</p><p>- There is no one left to return that favor to, .. - he was about to add the name of his opponent when he realized he didn’t even know it. The tailor has spent an entire afternoon with a guest he didn’t even bother to inquire a name. Although it seemed like that guest wasn’t really willing to give it away either.</p><p>- Well, there is me.</p><p>There was him. The lizard has pulled up his left sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his scales. The coat of arms. It looked out of place on such a clean skin.</p><p>Gilbert was beginning to feel sick.</p><p>The tender evening suddenly sobered up, and the wind was no longer discrete, but rather chilly. He began to feel strain on his body. But then he forced himself to relax.</p><p>The cat did have one more talent beyond tailoring. One of those unconventional types of skills, nothing wicked though, nothing you can usually be on the run for. Yet he was.</p><p>It’s not like he had a choice now, did he.</p><p>His heart ached. He believed to have let go of everything, but now it was apparent that his past believed otherwise.</p><p>He remembered everything vividly. The cold marbled floors, the way it felt like to walk them with bare paws. It felt like silk. The dress, a tiny one, of all the rich colors, beautiful cloth, must’ve cost a fortune, it didn’t lose in poshness to the rest of the palace. He remembered the harsh fur, unnaturally long ears, the piercing green eyes, almost mad. He remembered when the princess was born.</p><p>And that coat of arms, it wasn’t meant to be shown to many eyes.</p><p>He remembered how it felt to wear armor, hares had a habit of forging it heavy, imposing. He remembered to think it was a sort of an insecurity. He remembered the heat of the fire, the deafening clatter of all sorts of weaponry. He didn’t remember the rest. He didn’t want to.</p><p>Even if he did have a choice, he wouldn’t ever have declined now.</p><p>Something was coming to interrupt them.</p><p>- Mota! - both men heard a loud yell in the distance that pulled Gilbert out of trance. The Baron did have an impressive voice, - Where are you, you old fuck? Tonight, we’re having a feast!</p><p>That meant Gilbert had to pull out the strongest spirits he had always neatly kept to himself. Until the Baron discovered them, of course.</p><p>It took a little moment for the tailor to collect his thoughts.</p><p>- Just follow me. The Baron is a hospitable man, - he told his guest after a moment of thought, before disappearing in the back of the house and reappearing with two impressive bottles of colorful liquid. He never revealed to the Baron what they really were, but nobody really minded, as long as it was a good beverage.</p><p>And then they moved towards the front of the Baron’s keep. Gilbert didn’t even bother to change out of his working outfit that consisted of an apron with what seemed to be like a thousand pockets, each carefully selected to host the many tools and objects he uses in his daily craft. It was hand-made, of course, for the sole purpose of serving a service and wouldn’t have any aesthetic value if not for the one row of pockets that contained threads of every tone imaginable, all arranged according to Gilbert’s personal laws of color matching. Nevertheless, the Baron was always saying that this careless carefulness was Gilbert’s best trait. The thread row was his personal favorite.</p><p>On their way the lizard, with the most unconcerned voice ever, described what Baron Edebrand’s name meant to the outside world nowadays. Nothing was too much of a news to Gilbert, because most of the rumors were just the same on the inside of the castle, giving how mysterious the character was. It was told by the folk that he first came to rule after taming the beast of the swamps at the tender age of 10, a giant serpent, which then protected him and those who followed him from any harm. That was hard to believe for anyone who knew him closer than just as a Baron, giving his not-at-all-warrior-like shape and attitude. The only reminder of that legend was a tiny bronze statuette of a serpent on his mace. Very strategically crafted to hurt if used.</p><p>Folk categorized themselves in three groups, that is, the believers, the non-believers and the usual agnostics who didn’t have anything to add to the topic. Either they believed in the legend, or they believed the Baron was a mad kind of cat with an overly inflated ego, and the entire story is just an excuse to run away to a lover of his from disagreeing and probably enraged parents. On the inside of the castle walls though, the alternative of the non-believers was a bit different, but the self loving part persisted. They knew, although, that the Baron never had a lover.</p><p>It was a short road, and the moment the two men revealed themselves to the others, everybody joyfully saluted Gilbert. With the lizard though, they’ve been a bit less confident. Not suspicious or inhospitable though, they always loved to see a new face. No matter how alien it was.</p><p>- Master Mota! - a deep throaty voice shouted - There you are!</p><p>Judging by the miserable look of everyone, especially the Baron, Gilbert was going to have a lot of patching up to do in the next few days. Not tonight though, tonight was reserved for a different type of work. It was reserved for social interactions.</p>
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